


You won't defeat love

by ArthurtheGatekeeper



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Hexer (TV 2002), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Against Elves, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, As I write it, Bar Fight, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Racism, off screen violence to elves, or you know since hexer didn't have a first meeting - i gave it one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:41:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27233653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArthurtheGatekeeper/pseuds/ArthurtheGatekeeper
Summary: It is impossible to know when you first meet someone if they will be important to you or a note less blip.When the bard pulled him from the bar fight they'd started, racing down the twisting roads of an unremarkable town he didn't know which it would be."The name's Jaskier." His eyes a brilliant cornflower blue.And Geralt could not help but hope he'd be important.Or: How the Hexer boys met.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 7
Kudos: 53





	You won't defeat love

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Upfront! This is set in The Hexer (2002) Polish Witcher. I'll do my best to make sure you don't get lost if you haven't seen the show so you can all enjoy how soft these boys are but be aware if you're looking for the Netflix canon. 
> 
> Also warning for the Very first section where people at the bar are discussing Elves they killed brutally. But its not like Renfri didn't do worse on screen. Canon-typical racism warning.

“Those fucking elves deserve it!”

He gripped his ale tighter. Shoulders curling in as the men continue to loudly boast about their murderous exploits.

_Don’t get involved in the affairs of men._

_We're supposed to fight monsters._ The mug creaked under his fingers.

_You know what they’ll say if you get involved? A Crazy Witcher slashed men to death without reason._

“You should have heard the little bitch scream. Like a pig!” They squealed then laughed. Laughed.

_They’ve done terrible things. Doesn’t that make them monsters? Are they even human?_

_Then you’ll have to kill half of mankind._ The old man’s voice echoed in his head. A crack formed in the mug.

“And the man?” One of his colleagues interrupted with a jeer of “Ain’t not a man!” He guffawed. “You got me there! Pathetic thing just begged us to leave them alone. Like we ain’t doing the world a favor killing them!”

Ale rushed over his fingers and the distraction was enough to keep him from launching himself at them.

The lute music stopped.

“Ah Gentlemen.” The singer called to them. “Permit me to sing about your exploits won’t you?”

They roared in delight. “Go on then bard!”

He cleared his throat. Strummed a melody. He mopped up the spilled drink best he could. Gut twisting.

_The stinking beasts drank their ale_  
_While the rest of the bar turned so pale_  
_And we all hoped they’d turn tail_  
_Cause everyone hated their wretched tale_

He looked up at the bard. A youth with tossed brown hair glaring at them fiercely. The men started to stand. Growling their offense. The bard twisted around the room staying out of reach.

_Yes it was plain to see_  
_How they all took joy in other’s misery_  
_If only the monster’s mothers had drowned them at sea_  
_Then we might all enjoy a night of revelry_

The bard’s playing grew frantic as he stopped behind him. Trapped between his table, the wall, and two of the advancing murderers.

He stood. Not reaching for his blade but disincentivizing their advance. They yelled at the bard whose shaky hands had not halted their strumming melody.

_The cocksure beasts might try to threaten me_  
_But the truth was we all wanted them to leave_  
_Take their rotten pricks and-_

The one on his left swung at the bard. He knocked him off balance, thudding into the wall. Tightening his eyes to slits. “Don’t.” He warned.

The bard yipped as the other swung. Leaping under the table. The first man swung at him now. Clearly not processing what he was up against.

One punch was all it took to drop the man.

The bar erupted in violence and chaos.

The other man took a shot at him.

The crack of his nose under his knuckles was satisfying. Even if it wouldn’t fix what they had done. Wouldn’t stop them from doing it again.

_If they touch me I’ll kill them. They’d deserve it._

A hand yanked at his gauntlet. His eyes ticked to it. Ready to attack.

The bard. “Time to go!” He yelled over the chaos. Pulling him over tables and chairs to the exit.

A few of the monster’s called out after them. Threats and curses.

They kept running as the screaming bar grew distant. Down the twisting and curving roads of the town until it opened to a grassy knoll before the farmer’s fields and the bard collapsed in a wheezing huff.

He caught his breath. Turning back the way they came. Making sure no one had followed them.

Bright rolling laughter filled the fields.

His eyebrows drew together as he watched the bard laugh himself silly. His hat abandoned amongst the weeds. Yanking out a skin of drink from his pocket and forcing himself to take a sip between gasps.

“Now that was an adventure.” He held the wineskin – it was a wineskin, he could smell that now – out. Arm straight. “Thank you for your aid my friend. Might,” He gasped. Chest still heaving from the run. “Have gotten rather messy without your help.”

That was a weird way to hold a wineskin. He frowned. Trying to make sure no pursuers had tracked them.

“The name’s Jaskier. Famous troubadour and poet, at your service.” He jostled the skin again. Still holding it out at the odd angle. He pushed himself up onto his knees and toes. Pushing his sweaty brown hair from his eyes. Blue. What a human color. “What’s yours?”

“Geralt.” He shifted his weight. Not knowing quite what else to do.

“Well Geralt. Thank you. Did you break that man’s nose? I hope you did. I couldn’t stand to listen to them go on a minute more.”

“Neither could I.” He admitted. More to himself than the poet.

“Cheers to that!” The skin was pressed against his hand. “Drink?”

He couldn’t stop the confused furrow. It made him look angry people had said. “What?”

He cocked his head. “Do you not drink? Cause you’re really missing out in that case.” He took another swig and groaned in appreciation. “I mean it’s not good wine but it’s not terrible wine either. So that makes it an excellent drink in my books!”

“I drink.”

“Great!” The skin was tossed into his hands. He caught it with a questioning look.

Something flickered over the bard’s face but it was covered with an easy smile before he could place it. He shuffled the lute around to his front and flopped back into the grass. “What a beautiful day.”

He sniffed the wineskin before taking a sip. Fields of golden wheat stretched across the horizon, rustled by the breeze. Trees in the far distance. All lit up by the bright blue sky above. He hadn’t noticed but he was right.

Jaskier smiled up at him. Pat the grass next to him. He sat down, cross-legged, and handed him the skin back.

“So what do you do Geralt?”

“I’m a Witcher.”

“So, you’re a monster hunter?”

He grunted the affirmative.

He whistled. Downed a sip. “Sounds like a lot of work.” Passed the skin back.

It sloshed in his hands. “It’s all I know.”

He remembered wanting this. To become a Witcher. To protect people from monsters. To protect the weak from the strong.

He hummed. “Well Witcher,” He knocked his fist against the skin. “Thank you for protecting me from those monsters.”

“Don’t mention it.” The wine was sweet on his tongue. “Really. Don’t.”

 _A Crazed Witcher attacked men without reason._ It’d have the Witchers at Kaer Morhen after him for being a renegade before the season was through. They already hated him. He didn’t need to give them an excuse.

“Alright.” His voice rolled with laughter. “But the story of the mighty Witcher who protected an innocent bard from a murderous multi-headed beast! Why- that sounds like a tale.”

“Sounds like a lie.”

His eyes crinkled at the edges. What was that flower called? Jaskier smirked. Shook his head slightly. “Ballads aren’t meant to be believed. They’re meant to be felt.” His eyes tracked the clouds slowly moving above.

“And what feeling is that meant to inspire?”

“Gratitude.” His head tilted just so and that smile was aimed fully at him.

It was an eon between the next heartbeat and the last.

Cornflowers. That’s what it was. Cornflower blue.

“- Horse?”

He blinked. Tilted his head.

The smile turned amused. Crinkling around the corners of the cornflower blue of his eyes and warmth of his smile.

“Do you have a horse?” He repeated.

“Yes.”

“Going anywhere in particular?”

He forced his eyes away. To the trees.

“Not north.” He decided.

“Why I’m headed that way too. If you wouldn’t object to a little company.”

His heart- always so slow in his chest – raced.

“I would not.”

“Perfect.”

**Author's Note:**

> It's high time to find out  
> What no one will tell you  
> That sometimes it so happens in life  
> That humans are the monsters  
> And now you fight  
> With your own thoughts  
> Because, after all, you're supposed to protect people  
> From monsters
> 
> The Hexer ending song - Episode 3. Translation provided by Thegirlwithnonickname on tumblr. Find me on tumblr as abluescarfonwaston.


End file.
